


reunion

by stuff_and_nonsense



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Sex, Branding, Choking, Drugged Sex, Dubious Consent, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-12 17:05:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18450890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuff_and_nonsense/pseuds/stuff_and_nonsense
Summary: Caleb's discussion with Yussah goes rather differently, and isn't the first time they've met.





	reunion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [plutonianshores](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plutonianshores/gifts).



Caleb has met this man before.

Yussah doesn’t recognize him, he’s fairly sure. They’d only met the one night, and Caleb looks very different now; the boy he’d been is hidden behind shaggy hair and worn clothes and years of rough living. But still, if he’s wrong… He hangs his head and says as little as possible. He just has to keep it together until they’re out of this tower.

The first time he’d seen Yussah, he’d been just a few months away from his graduation – young, arrogant, skilled, unquestioningly loyal. Ikithon had called him into his private study at the manor, which was always an honor. Bren had walked in, back straight and uniform pristine, to see an unfamiliar white-haired elf standing by Ikithon’s desk.

“This is Yussah Errenis, an esteemed wizard from the Menagerie Coast,” Ikithon said. “He is my guest while we negotiate his potential cooperation with the Cerberus Assembly. You’ll provide him with companionship and anything else he requires for the evening. I trust you’ll represent the Empire well.”

“Yes, Master Ikithon,” Bren replied, all according to form. He’d been asked to spend the night with powerful guests before – “sweetening the pot,” Ikithon called it. While it wasn’t his favorite task, it was worth it to serve the Empire and gain his teacher’s favor.

He led Errenis out of the office to one of the manor’s guest rooms, then opened the door for the still silent wizard. The room was freshly cleaned, the wooden floor scrubbed and the lamps on the walls lit. Bren had stayed in this particular room before, with an ambassador from Tal’Dorei, whispered to Astrid the next morning about how disconcertingly soft the bed was.

He expected tonight to be a relatively light assignment. The elf was clearly a powerful mage – any wizard would be able to sense that – but he was short and slight, unlikely to ask too much of Bren physically.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Master Errenis?” Bren asked. He stood by the desk of the Assembly’s guest room, relaxed his posture to seem friendly, as he’d been taught.

Yussah looked him over, obviously irritated. “I don’t suppose you’ll be any more forthcoming than your master was?” he asked. “He’s talked of an alliance all day, but offered no information of value.”

Bren knew better than to tell him anything Ikithon hadn’t specifically ordered. “I’m here to make sure you’re comfortable for the night,” said Bren. “I’m sure he’ll be able to answer your questions tomorrow.”

“What about those crystals in your arms?” Yussah asked, as if he hadn’t spoken. He walked over to Bren and yanked up his sleeve. “Power enhancers, he says, but not a word of useful detail on the theory.”

“I’m not yet familiar with the theory,” said Bren. “It’s new work that Master Ikithon is developing. He runs tests and changes them out frequently. Perhaps with your cooperation he’ll share more.”

Yussah laughed, a little bitter. “Useless,” he said. “He treats you as a toy, and me as a fool. Come here, I mean to show him what I think of that.”

Bren was already close, with Yussah still holding him by the wrist. But he stepped forward anyway, leaving only a few inches between them. He knew what was expected.

“He values us,” Bren said, against his better judgment. “We’re contributing to the advancement of magical knowledge and of the empire.”

“Well, if that’s so, the message I’m sending will go through just as clearly,” Yussah replied. “Take that ridiculous uniform off.”

Bren thought it was a very nice uniform actually – he was proud of his rank here and the fabric was the best he’s ever had – but he did as he was told, folding it carefully on the desk of the guest room. Yussah didn’t tell him to stop, so he removed his underclothes too, and placed them beneath the uniform.

He turned to face Yussah again. The first time he’d done this, he’d been self-conscious of his skinny body, but by this point it hardly bothered him. Yussah wasn’t fully undressed, but he’d removed his outer robe. He was in a thin inner shift, white as his hair, which hung loose and open at the front.

He reached up to slide a hand into Bren’s hair. “There you go,” he said. “Let’s begin.” He tightened his grip and tugged downwards. Bren dropped obediently to his knees, losing his balance near the end and hitting the floor hard. Yussah still held his hair, and it jerked his head up painfully.

Yussah’s cock was about six inches from his face. It was still nearly soft, too much so to take easily into his mouth, so he reached up a hand to stroke it, watching Yussah for his reaction. His irritation was mixed with mild interest, but more focused on Bren’s decorated forearms than on what his hands were doing. Bren hesitated, but Yussah waved him on, so he continued to stroke.

“I have lubricant in my pocket,” he told Yussah. “May I…?” He nodded over at his pile of clothes. 

Yussah scoffed. “Just use what’s in your mouth,” he said. “I thought you students were meant to be resourceful.”

Bren spat into his hand. He hated doing this – it made him feel rough, called back the snickers at his farmer’s clothes in his first months in Rexxentraum. But it worked well enough; he could feel Yussah growing hard in his moistened grip.

Yussah did little besides watch, making Bren feel uncomfortably examined. “Faster,” he said occasionally, or “now you’re figuring it out.” Once he was erect, Bren leaned forward and licked at the head of his cock, cringing internally at the bit of wetness that dripped onto his chin. He slid the tip into his mouth, working it up and down with lips and hand.

“That’s quite good,” Yussah said. “You must have had some practice. How often does Ikithon make you do this? Have you sucked off the whole Cerberus Assembly yet?”

Bren of course couldn’t answer. Yussah grabbed his wrist and drew it out of the way, leaving only Bren’s mouth on his cock, then wrapped his fingers into Bren’s short hair again. He tugged his head forward, thrusting hard into his mouth.

This was the difficult part, but it was no great matter. Bren could handle it. He focused on breathing through his nose as Yussah fucked into him. It was a little rougher than he was used to; he wasn’t moving much himself, just being thrust against while Yussah held him in place by the hair. Yussah drove in further, bumping against the back of his throat, and Bren tried not to gag, barely held it back.

He knew how to bear pain at least, and this called for similar tactics. There was a weird little curlicue to one of Yussah’s pubes, right at eye level, Bren focused on it, tried to keep in his view as it moved back and forth. He could count the movements too, one, two, three, four strokes.

His concentration was broken abruptly as Yussah reached over to pinch his nose shut. He tried to open his mouth wider, to pull in air around the edge of Yussah’s dick, but felt something press his jaw closed. Yussah’s other hand was still well off to the side, tracing an arcane motion, ones he’d seen but hadn’t learned. Nothing was visible near his chin, but the clamp of ghostly fingers there held too tightly to allow him to get any air. He struggled for a few seconds, tried and failed to scuttle backwards. There was something else behind him, an unseen figure holding him in place.

He began to panic: tried to cast, didn’t know what, felt his hands start to warm with the fire that came instinctively. Before he could use it, held back even now by Ikithon’s imagined disapproval, he began to black out, spots dancing bright before his eyes.

Then suddenly it was over. His mouth was empty, and he was gasping for breath, and there was something hot and wet splattering onto his face.

He stayed on his knees for a moment, catching his breath, then looked around to see Yussah already fully dressed. Bren climbed to his feet, tried to straighten up and recover what dignity he can. Before he could speak, before he could do anything, Yussah made another arcane gesture, and every muscle in Bren’s body seized up.

He couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but watch as Yussah conjured a rope and looped it around his wrists. He felt the buzz of magic over his skin as the knots were arcanely reinforced, binding his hands together in front of him. He regained the ability to move just as Yussah secured the other end of the rope to a bedpost, barely had time to protest before he was leaving the room. 

Couldn’t wiggle out of the ropes, with the magic to reinforce them; couldn’t cast, without his hands or components; couldn’t even reach his clothes. He sat there for some time, Yussah’s come drying cold on his face. He looked around the room, and saw nothing of use but the lamp above him, although that would be tricky to utilize safely. Then he imagined Master Ikithon finding him like this in the morning. Avoiding that was worth a little risk. 

The rope had just enough slack to reach his arms above his head, and the lamp on the wall was just within reach. He swung his bound hands like a club to smash the glass. It took him a few tries; he’d never been particularly strong. Then he held the ropes to the oil-soaked wick, hoping they were inflammable enough to burn through rather than fully igniting.

He got lucky, managed to burn the rope enough to weaken it and let him free his wrists. His hands were a little scorched, but nothing worse than he gave himself routinely casting firebolt. He shook the feeling back into them, massaged his sore jaw. All he wanted to do was sit here, rest his aching muscles and take deep breaths to remind himself he still could. But he was stronger than that. He stood and checked for any further arcane traps Yussah had left behind, then dressed, cleaned himself up as best he could, and went to Ikithon to deliver Yussah’s message.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Years later, in Nicodranas, Caleb has memorized the teleportation runes, has apologized, has nodded at Yussah’s advice. He’s daring to hope that Yussah truly doesn’t recognize him. That he’s going to make it out of here. “I’m sure you have much to do today,” he says.

Yussah looks at him. Caleb looks at the floor, at the lines already imprinted in his mind. He counts the seconds with no response from Yussah.

Then - “Did you really think I didn’t recognize you?” Yussah asks. “I didn’t survive as long as I have by being an idiot.”

Caleb stays very still. There’s nothing to do but wait to see what happens. What will this man want from him? Will he report him to Ikithon? They hadn’t been on good terms, but who knows what’s happened in the past fifteen years, or if Yussah will some advantage in it.

“Please be calm,” Yussah says. “I assume you’ve parted ways with your old master? You’ve made quite a change from the uniform.”

“I have,” Caleb says. He will do anything, he decides – knows, really, there was never a question – if he can get out of this tower without being reported to Ikithon.

“I’ve had no contact with him since we first met, nor do I intend to,” Yussah says. “If that’s what you’re so afraid of. But I am curious to know what happened.”

Caleb is silent. Even if he wanted to tell Yussah, it would be beyond him right now.

“If that’s too much to ask, another show of loyalty would also do.” Yussah takes a step closer to him.

“My friends have told you everything we have to offer,” Caleb says. 

“Not everything.” Yussah’s close enough to touch him, though he doesn’t reach out yet. “I think about our first meeting sometimes. I’m curious to see how you’ve changed over the years.”

It’s a light enough price to pay, really. “Afterwards we are all free to go?” 

“Of course,” says Yussah. “You’re free to go now, if you want. Although I can offer you more benefits, if you choose to earn my favor here.”

Caleb steps back, then perfunctorily strips, piles books under coat under bandages and leaves them just besides the door. His bare feet look alien under the blue light.

Yussah stays in the center of the room, looks him over. “You haven’t been living so well without your old master, have you?”

“What would you like me to do?” Caleb asks. Looking seductive is beyond him, but he forces himself to raise his eyes from the floor. 

Yussah comes over and rests a hand on his cheek, runs it slowly down his neck and chest. Caleb flinches at the touch, cursing himself for it as he does.

“You’re nervous,” Yussah says. “I have no message to send this time, and I’d hope that you enjoy this as well. Wait here a moment.” He walks over to one of the bare stone walls, and lays a hand upon it. The stone slides away, revealing an inset compartment, and Yussah removes a small vial. “Drink this,” he tells Caleb, walking back over.

Caleb considers refusing, but he doesn’t dare. He reminds himself that what his friends might gain from this, and what he might avoid losing, is worth a little temporary discomfort. He downs the vial.

It’s sickly sweet, going down. He feels it first as a heaviness in his limbs. For a moment, he’s afraid that it’s nothing but a poison, that he’s been lied to, but he’s too exhausted to react. Then the heaviness passes, and he just feels loose and warm, more relaxed that he’s been in years. Why was he so afraid?

Yussah touches him again, fingers lightly on his chest, and the heat from the touch goes straight down through him. Yussah moves in, and strokes between his legs; he’s hard in seconds, nothing but heat and ache and wanting. Distantly, he hears himself moan aloud.

“There you go,” Yussah says. “Already better than last time.” He pulls his own robes off, and guides Caleb’s hand to his newly bared cock. Caleb just holds it for a moment, nothing occurring to him but to keep it lying warm in his hand, until Yussah leads him to stroke back and forth. “Downside of the drug, I’m afraid. Makes you a bit slow on the uptake, but it’ll wear off. Just keep doing that.” 

Caleb does, stroking in a steady rhythm. Yussah moves his hands in an arcane motion, recites something that Caleb recognizes but is too distracted to place. Then there’s the feeling of hands against his back, though Yussah’s are still clearly visible. They make their way downwards, sending more warmth through him. Something cool and wet is rubbed against his entrance, and then something pushes inside, sending a wave of pleasure through him. He groans aloud again. All he can think about is how good it feels.

It moves within Caleb for he doesn’t know how long, and then slips out. Caleb whines a little in protest; he needs more. Yussah stops his hand, still working steadily over Yussah’s cock, and takes him by the shoulders to turn him around. Then there’s something even better inside him, pushing in deeper, and what he’d felt before was nothing.

He’s lost in it, nothing but pleasure, from inside him, from his cock, from all over his body. Yussah’s grabbing his hips, warm and tight, and Caleb wants that everywhere. He pushes back into Yussah where he can, trying to get more skin contact. Then there’s the final shudder of Yussah’s release inside him, and the press of Yussah’s body full against his back, and a grip around his cock that tugs him into the explosion. He screams, vision black and the world around him gone.

When Caleb looks around again, Yussah’s left him, has gone instead to another compartment in the wall. “One last thing,” he says. “I’d like to help you remember the deal we’ve made.” Caleb waits for him. The fear begins to settle back into his shoulders, pulling his loose muscles back to their usual tension. He’s still sensitive, the dampness on his stomach and ass and the coolness of the stone floor against his feet more distracting than he suspects is normal, but his mind is coming back to itself. There’s a surge of nausea as he begins to count the seconds again, realizes he’d lost all sense of time while Yussah touched him, but he ignores it. He can be sick later, once he’s made it out of here.

Yussah returns with a small piece of metal, something like a wax seal. There’s a handle on the back, and Yussah’s initials engraved on the base. “Heat this up for me?” he asks.

Caleb does so without question, warming one of his hands and holding it against the metal. He can guess where this is going, but he’s still not willing to argue and risk losing Yussah’s tolerance.

When he releases the seal, Yussah reaches down in one quick motion and presses it against the outside of Caleb’s thigh. Caleb holds himself steady; it’s agonizing, but he’s been through worse. The smell is rough though, the familiar scent of burning flesh. He loses himself in that for just a moment, before snapping back to see Yussah pulling the brand away.

“You can rejoin your friends now,” Yussah says. “I look forward to our mutually beneficial relationship.” He opens a door in the wall that hadn’t been there before, and then he’s gone. 

Caleb gathers up his clothes and dresses – trousers, shirt, holsters, coat. He takes a second to look at the burn as he does. It’s barely the size of a copper coin. Small enough that his friends aren’t likely to notice unless they look improbably close. He’ll know it’s there though, just as he’s always aware of the scars on his arms.

When he’s finished, he sees Yussah’s goblin servant waiting for him at the top of the stairs. Caleb follows him down to the sitting room with his friends, who are working their way through a plate of cookies. He’s memorized the teleportation circle, he tells them. This will be a good thing for the group. They don’t need to know the details.


End file.
